Surviving 3.

Nothing good to write, just bad. I got out of NYC just in time, it seems. The military is blocking the exits from the city and the flu is breaking out everywhere. The news shows crazy, chaotic views of people being attacked by what the government and the press refuse to say are infected. As soon as I got out of the city, I stopped at a branch of my bank and cleaned it out. What good will money do during Armageddon? I stopped in a small town and bought more supplies including ammunition. I'm glad I have a permit, even if it is a fake. Pays to know the wrong people I guess. The old man at the gun shop said, "You planning on starting a war, son?" My reply, "No, surviving one.". I also got a few throw away cell phones. I'm going to try and contact Ted. It might have been him doing the shooting, rather than getting shot. I keep hoping for this, but I feel he's dead.

I'm taking back roads and staying away from any large towns or small cities. I've been sleeping in my car. Only Ted knows where I'm headed, since he had I gamed this out as a gag a long time ago. We were mostly worried about a second civil war or an asteroid strike. Not the living dead. I throw a net over the car when I pull off the road to stop. I'm starting to reek since I don't feel safe taking the time to bath. I just wipe down with a few baby wipes and keep going.

I killed two people today. I don't know if they were infected or not and I don't care.. I guess I'll go to any lengths to keep alive. I'd pulled into a small gas station/diner to fuel up. I don't want to use my tanks until I have to. Inside the diner were some greasy looking biker and his woman. As I approached the door, I could smell blood. That thick, rich coppery smell that makes one gag. Holding my pistol along my leg, I put on my best grin (which sucks at best, making me look like I have rigor) and pushed open the door. Greasy looked at me through his filthy, food matted beard and lurched to his feet, his big belly heaving. While he did that, his skinny, crack whore looking girlfriend, one side of her face tatted up and bruised, started to squeal. Nerves strung out as they were, that's all I needed. I shot Greasy through the throat, sending him flying back across a booth, gagging on his own blood. Before crack ho could raise the blood crusted butcher cleaver, I fired twice. One shot hit her in the stomach, the second tore through the right side of her face, knocking her down behind the counter. Quickly I stepped over to greasy and put one through his head. Taking a second to breath, I scoped out the rest of the diner. In the kitchen at the rear was a man in once white, now red, cooking whites. He'd been chopped up pretty bad. His face was untouched, mouth open in pain. Near him were a man, a woman and two kids. All suffered the same wounds. The kids limbs were missing and I didn't want to know where they were. Wiping sweat from my face with a shaking hand, I looted the place, taking all the canned goods I could fit in my SUV. space was tight, but as I ate, space would open up. I fueled up from the pumps, then, using my axe, cut the hoses and tossed them into the dumpster. I didn't want anyone who might follow to access the fuel. Leaving it in the underground tanks might benefit me later. I thought about torching the place, but I didn't want to cause any smoky fires and attract any official attention. Sitting in my car for a moment, I wondered about myself. I'd killed those people - who no doubt deserved it - without a thought. Is this how fast civilization will be stripped away?